Diary Entries

[Intro] Found it cleaning out her room. Black notebook. Bottom drawer. Her name on the first page. Then a date. [Verse 1] September fourth. First page. Handwriting clean. “First week of high school… barely made it through the week.” Wrote about Katie—best friends since grade three, Same bus, same lunch, damn near family. Birthday cakes, bike rides, tents in the yard. Katie walked through our house like the place was hers. Then high school hit—new clothes, new circle. My daughter waved in the hall. Katie looked straight past her. Some girl said, “Wait, weren’t y’all best friends?” Katie laughed with the pack: “Yeah… way back then.” My kid wrote, “It’s cool, people change, I guess…” But pressed so hard the pen tore through the next page. I remember Katie. Drove them both to school. Told myself they just grew apart. That’s what kids do. [Hook] Read between the lines, Dad… I hid it in the ink. Every page got darker than you ever got to see. You were right down the hall… but I kept it locked in me. If you wanna know what happened… keep reading. [Verse 2] September twenty-six. Handwriting changed. Letters leaning hard, anger soaking every page. Lunch alone. Bathroom stall. Hood pulled low. Kids whispering when she walked like she didn’t already know. New nickname circulating. Jokes about her body. Some boy acted interested, then laughed with his boys. Katie two tables over, staring at her tray. Didn’t throw the punch… just looked the other way. Teacher said, “You seem quiet.” She smiled, “I’m alright.” I asked the same damn question when she walked in that night. “School good?” “Yeah, Dad.” Two words. Upstairs. I’m cooking dinner thinking everything’s fine. Now I’m holding that page and every sentence feels wrong. The warning signs were living twenty feet down the hall. [Hook] Read between the lines, Dad… I hid it in the ink. Every page got darker than you ever got to see. You were right down the hall… but I kept it locked in me. If you wanna know what happened… keep reading. [Verse 3] October ninth. Three words across the top: “It followed me home.” Someone took a picture. Turned the picture into a meme. By dinner half the school had it glowing on their screens. Fake page. Group chat. Comments stacking high. Faceless accounts throwing rocks from accounts with no eyes. Blocked one—two more appeared. Deleted the app. Downloaded it again ‘cause the silence felt worse than that. Katie texted, “I’m sorry. Are you okay?” She wrote: “Why won’t you say that where they can see your name?” I remember that night. Light glowing under her door. Figured she’s just talking to friends like before. Turns out the hallway followed her home through that phone— A thousand voices in her room while she sat there alone. [Hook] Read between the lines, Dad… it’s getting hard to write. School used to end at three… now it follows me at night. You were right down the hall… I could see beneath your light. I almost came and told you… maybe next time. [Verse 4] November eighteenth. Ink smeared down the side. “Went to Katie’s party. Should’ve stayed home tonight.” She doesn’t write the details. Just broken pieces: “Too many people.” “Couldn’t find my ride.” “Everybody had their phones out.” “Somebody locked the door.” Then nothing. Half a page blank. Four words near the bottom: “I don’t feel like me.” I read that twenty times looking for something that wasn’t there. She came home after midnight—I still see it clear. Mascara running. Wouldn’t look at me. Disappeared upstairs. “Everything okay?” “Just tired, Dad.” And I let her walk away. God… I let her walk away. [Hook] Read between the lines, Dad… there ain’t much left to say. Every time you asked me I pushed the words away. You were right down the hall… I wanted you to know. I almost came and told you… but I couldn’t let it show. [Verse 5] December second. Last page. No explanation. “Dad knocked twice.” “Asked if I wanted to watch that stupid movie again.” “I almost opened the door.” “I wish I did.” That’s it. No more dates. No more ink. No next page. I’ve spent every night since staring at that doorway, reading four little words that never leave my head… Why didn’t I knock one more time? [Final Hook] Read between the lines, Dad… don’t carry all the blame. There were things inside these pages I could never make myself say. You were right down the hall… closer than you ever knew. I almost opened up that door… I wish I did too. [Outro] Black notebook. Bottom drawer. I thought I was cleaning out her room. She left me the whole story.